


Flying Lessons with Superman

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Some angst, Superhero Castiel, Superhero Dean, Superhero Sam, Superheroes, Superman and Batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean moves in to wrap his arms around Cas’s equally broad body. He smells like fresh air and freedom. And a little bit of aftershave. "I mean, if you're not too busy saving the world at the moment, Superman, then sure.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this art by IrenSupernatural: http://orig14.deviantart.net/11e3/f/2015/305/e/5/batman_vs_superman_by_irensupernatural-d9f4rvh.png

_Lyrics throughout: “Superman Tonight” by Bon Jovi_

**In which Sam is Robin because I fully support Jared for the role of Nightwing.**

 

 Flying Lessons with Superman

 “Maybe I'm cynical,  
I'm painfully logical,  
You're tragic and beautiful  
And that's good enough for me.

You're looking for a hero, but it's just my old tattoo  
Tonight I swear I'd sell my soul to be a hero for you.” 

 

It’s nighttime as Dean watches on from the top of a twenty story building. Another overestimated anti-hero plunging straight for the mid-day traffic below. From his view, it’s like a sea of red blinking stars without the romance and magic. Honestly, this is why he has an escort when he’s not in his trademark black suit. His ride is sleek, and pretty much the best thing around since canned cheese, but it’s terrible on mileage, and most importantly, he of all heroes does _not_ have the patience for traffic, if his deep, for-show raspy voice alone is anything to go by.

Come to think of it, he’s probably causing more harm than good, flinging someone into incoming traffic. 

Then again, he’s not the one who flung them. (At least not this time.)

Dean shakes his head. "I had it in the bag."

"Really? Is that why you were dangling from the roof?"

"I needed _some_ incentive for you to see me at work."

"Please," the owner of the voice that makes even Dean, the Caped Crusader, question his vigilante’s aforementioned rasp, says, "admit it, you love seeing me in my tights."

"Mm," Dean hums in consideration, "almost as much as I love seeing you out of them."

The low moan of the man's go-go boots accompany Dean’s statement, but not in haste. "Is that a challenge?"

At that, Dean turns around, but not without a smile toying with his stoic lips—the only part of him that’s exposed. There's many things about Castiel Novak that pull him in like Thor's Hammer, like his eyes that rival the oceans he flies over every day, ruffling his cape and that dollop of dark brown hair, but never his red, blue, and yellow suit. And what's underneath that suit. But if he, like Cas, had a kryptonite, it would be that smile bestowed upon him—that expanse of teeth gummier than a pack of baseball cards.

Dean moves in to wrap his arms around Cas’s equally broad body. He smells like fresh air and freedom. And a little bit of aftershave. "I mean, if you're not too busy saving the world at the moment, _Superman,_ then sure.”

Cas's hands skate along Dean's armor. Despite the hard, protective case, it sends goosebumps running up Dean’s chest. "Where's your Boy Wonder?" he asks.

"Sam?” Dean says, “Passed out on the couch with a Reader's Digest taped to his forehead."

"So he's fighting a desperado on _another_ remote building in the city,” Cas laughs. “You’d think a noise complaint would have been filed by now.”

Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “How do you know I don’t stun them with my good looks and charm before I destroy their face and their ego?”

Cas drops his head and makes a point out of looking at him through long, narrowed lashes. “How is it you’re one of the richest and powerful men in the tristate area, and you can’t buy yourself a decent pick-up line?”

“Correction: _Dean Smith_ is one of the richest and powerful men in the tristate area. _Batman_ is—”

“A masked vigilante with a bunch of neat gadgets and a ridiculously deep voice?”

Dean’s mouth drops. “I was going to say a city dweller who shares a common thirst for justice, but that’s… actually pretty true. Huh.” Dean cringes at his own admission, but keeps Cas close nonetheless as he asks, “How’s Metropolis treating you?”

“It’s fair. Accidentally ripped up some roads… and sidewalks… and some walls… Oh! I fought Prankster the other day. He says hi. By that I mean, he said he hopes you choke on razorblade candies.”

Dean scoffs, “Gabe? Why am I not surprised? Did you kick his ass into next week?”

“And further,” Cas emphasizes with an impish smile, moving his hand from Dean’s chest to his neck, and Dean’s not ashamed to say he leans into it. Then, Cas gifts Dean _that_ look, the one that doesn’t need words to convey feeling, even though he does anyway as he peels off Dean’s mask. He knows how much Dean likes to hear them: three words, so simple and so effective: “I missed you.”

In some ways, Dean thinks he’s Cas’s kryptonite. Cas has almost everything he could ask for. He’s friggin’ _Superman,_ for God’s sake. Dean’s just a hot shot billionaire with a master in Keysi. He’s undefeated in Gotham, but not within the confines of his heart. Like Cas with his father, since the passing of his parents, Dean’s lost so much so fast. There are some days he looks in the mirror and sees a shell of himself staring back.

He also sees the emptiness surrounding him. He has his toys, and his cash, and his cars, but no one to share it with. (Well, except Bobby, his butler, and _maybe_ Sam, if he behaves, but that’s a given.) And Cas is just… he’s indescribable. He’s someone Dean never pictured falling for—and that says something because he’s not the one that’s supposed to be falling; _he’s_ the hero of his story!

Of course, Dean doesn’t respond with any of that, deciding to settle with, “I missed you too.”

Only when Cas’s warm, chapped lips are against his, Dean realizes: he’s not falling—he’s flying. And even though he’s never known how that’s felt (okay, _once,_ but it only lasted a few minutes before Cas had to fly them back towards the ground for Dean to puke his guts out. Plus, he didn’t poop for a week, so there’s that.), Cas’s love for him has him feeling weightless enough to get the idea.

Love.

_Love._

That’s a new vocabulary word.

It’s a chaste kiss, but Cas takes his time unraveling Dean. Cas nudges him with his nose, asking for entrance. Dean’s more than complaint, kissing him back with full tongue. Only, Cas has different plans after briefly returning the heated kiss that include skipping past Dean’s mouth completely in favor of his stubble neck, and that’s how Dean became the one grappling Cas’s chest and bunching the red _S_ on his shirt with one hand and tugging on Cas’s hair with the other, because holy _shit._ Dean’s breath’s coming out in hot sputters now, and the way his head’s thrown back is dangerous if anyone was to catch them on this rooftop, because they’d both be compromised, but that just makes it hotter.

Well, _made_ it hotter: “Ahem.”

Cas takes a few more seconds to make sure the hickey he’s placing is securely strapped onto Dean’s throat before pulling off, but Dean groans almost immediately, “ _Sam.”_

“You think I _like_ being a cockblock?” Sam huffs, arms crossed over his long chest.

“Yes,” Dean replies humorlessly, “I really, _really_ do.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you think can wait. I need your backup. Both of you.”

“ _Backup?”_ Dean and Cas find themselves saying incredulously and in tandem.

They turn back to each other with shy smiles, and one final sweet kiss, and that’s enough for Dean to say, “Alright. Let’s kick some ass.”

 

 

“Who's gonna save you  
When the stars fall from your sky?  
And who's gonna pull you in  
When the tide gets too high?  
Who's gonna hold you  
When you turn out the lights?  
I won't lie, I wish that I  
Could be your superman tonight.”


End file.
